


pull out your heart (to make the being alone easy)

by Compatible_complications



Series: Easy [1]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Implied Casual Sex, Multi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other, Polyamory, cryptagehound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Compatible_complications/pseuds/Compatible_complications
Summary: On sunday, he sees them dancing in the kitchen.
Relationships: Bloodhound & Mirage | Elliott Witt, Bloodhound/Crypto | Park Tae Joon, Bloodhound/Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Mirage | Elliott Witt, Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Series: Easy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798000
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	pull out your heart (to make the being alone easy)

On sunday, he sees them dancing in the kitchen.

It's a long weekend, another Thursday night where Tae Joon had come over and not left, the lines between sex and intimacy blurring more and more every time while he steadily ignored it. This apartment has become something of a sanctuary now, the only place he allowed himself to let just a fraction of his guard down. He didn't ever relax, fully, but between these walls he was a different person. Not new, but maybe 2, 5 years younger, not yet surrendered completely to cynicism.

But he has never allowed himself to view the situation as anything other than what it was. And when he does, moments like these come along to remind him of the way things are.

He'd been showering, and then he'd sat down for a long time afterwards with the clothes they had laid out for him, noted how his own clothes were washed and folded on top of the dresser but it was still their clothes they apparently wanted him to wear. The alarm bells in his head meant to protect his life curled back in disgust at the stuffiness of being held down by someone's else's expectation, recoiled at the implication of being owned in some small way. The alarm bells meant to protect his heart wanted him to put on his own clothes and leave, because his fingers were absentmindedly stroking over the soft, worn fabric of the shirt they had left, aching to put it on and find them and sink into something he couldn't have.

Fortunately for him, the universe, or maybe somewhere Mila, was intent on keeping him on track. He had shook himself out of his thoughts, put on his own clothes, and emerged from the spare bedroom with a plan to end this weekend amicably and get out before he could forget himself.

And it's then, when he's padding silently down the hall towards the kitchen, when he turns the corner and sees them.

The sunlight comes in yellow through the kitchen window, illuminating them in the color of late afternoon. Elliott's skin is golden where he tucks his face into the crook of their neck, and Bloodhound's eyes shine amber when the light hits them directly. They are both beautiful, completely wrapped up in each other, so close its hard to tell where one stops and the other begins. Bloodhound murmurs something and Elliott smiles and kisses them deeply, tenderly, as if there is no one else in their little world. And there isn't.

They sway gently, holding each other, barefoot and in their comfortable house clothes, hair tousled and eyes lazy and tired after a day of doing nothing together. There is no music and they don't need any. Tae Joon can't hear their heartbeats, but his own is loud enough in his ears that he knows the sound would he music enough for them. 

He swallows, mouth dry, and looks away. He feels like the intruder he is, and yet his eyes keep going back, almost masochistically focusing on the laughter lines in the corners of Elliott's eyes, Bloodhound's lips curved into an adoring smile. He knows he's seeing something private, special, and as much as his heart aches, he needs this reminder that there are people like them and people like him. People like them love and are loved, and people like him are meant for other things. 

It's with this icy reminder that he stamps his longing out as best as he can, and withdraws. He steps back a few feet into the hallway and takes a deep breath before walking forward, making his footsteps louder as he approaches the kitchen again, forcing the tension out of his limbs.

He deliberately does not look up for a beat, just to ensure they have time to detangle themselves. He offers an awkward smile as he looks up, one they are used to by now. Thankfully, they are standing apart now, Elliott leaning back against the kitchen counter and Bloodhound turned towards the french press by the stove. Elliott is the first to speak, flashing a brilliant smile that makes Tae Joon ache to his bones.

"Water pressure all good?" he asks, and Tae Joon nods, grateful for something to say, to present himself less stilted and awkward and frozen out from years of loneliness.

"네, the improvements you made were… creative. But it worked, I think."

Elliotts proud expression is too much for Tae Joon to handle right now, so he looks at Bloodhound, who is pulling down three cups from the cupboard. They give him a small smile, one strand of hair hanging in front of their eyes. 

"Somehow Elliott has never electrocuted me in my own shower, and for that I thank the allfather every day." They punctuate their words with a kiss on Elliott's cheek, and he giggles, looks to Tae Joon like they're sharing a secret. Tae Joon swallows again and looks over at the french press.

"You staying for dinner?" Elliott asks, sounding almost strange. Deliberately casual.

"No I… I have to go. I have things to work on before our next match." He offers an apologetic smile, not meeting either of their eyes directly. He looks instead at the bridge of Elliott's nose, the small scar cutting through Bloodhound's left eyebrow. Bloodhound makes a noise of acknowledgement, and Elliott nods, turns to fiddle with the sink. He turns the water off and on, then picks up a dish and starts washing it. Tae Joon watches, drags his eyes away, and steps further into the room, towards the front door. His drone charges by his bag, shoes on the shoe rack beneath next to Elliott and Bloodhound's. He notes how one pair of shoes has been banished to the floor to make room for his, and maybe he needs the reminder that there isn't room for him here, because he almost wanted to stay when Elliott asked him to.

He turns to them one last time. "Thank you, for…" He trails off, unsure what to say. The sex? letting him sleep in the spare bedroom for 3 days, letting him stay in their apartment with them like he wasn't the person he is? Cooking for him, letting him wash his hair with shampoo that smelled like Elliott and body wash that smelled like Bloodhound? He has no idea how to finish his sentence, so he doesn't. Bloodhound nods like they understand, and Elliott lets out a soft, "Yeah." He turns to gather his things.

"Are we still on for the next match? Squadmates?" Elliott asks, and Tae Joon doesn't turn around from where he's slipping on his shoes.

"Of course. I'll see you both Wednesday?

"Be safe," comes Bloodhound's soft voice, and Tae Joon finds himself nodding.

"You too," he says, and then he's slipping out the door, leaving behind them and their home and the love he isn't a part of. 

No wonder they can bring a third into their bedroom, he thinks, with a relationship as unshakable as theirs. He focuses on that thought as he walks quickly down the dirty sidewalk, the light fading from gold to purple the further he walks away from their apartment and closer to his. They are both excellent fighters, allies, occasional sexual partners. Nothing more, nothing less. And he was hopefully the same to them; not an enemy, but an asset.

He has to focus on his goals. He has to look past his unreliable heart to the reason he's here, to the person he's fighting for.

And the enemy that took her from him.

"Oh, Mila," he sighs to the empty street, but he has no idea how to finish that sentence either.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on twitter @cryptagehound


End file.
